


a truth universally acknowledged

by weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Love at First Sight, Mild Sexual Content, Miscarriage, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I think," she said quietly, "that we know a thing or two about overcoming impossibilities, my love. Don't you?"</i>
</p><p>or: Varric and Cassandra are secretly married, and Trevelyan aims to figure out how it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a truth universally acknowledged

**Author's Note:**

> Warning. This fic contains heaping amounts of self indulgent fuckery with the canonical timeline, with complete disregard for how the actual events occurred, because I'm a _grown ass twenty-five year old woman_ and I will do whatever I want. 
> 
> I hope you like it. I'm really sorry if there are typos I'll fix them in the morning, I just wanted to get this into the world before I change my mind, and also I don't feel good and I'm going to bed so I'll deal with consequences in the AM.

"When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part."   
\--George Bernard Shaw

* * *

_Present Day_

Evelyn heard the shouting before she found them, and Maker, weren't they a sight? Standing there in the hall, teeth bared, each looking like they wanted to rip the other one to shreds. It was worse than the way she'd met them, the sour way Cassandra had suggested Varric return home, and the bittersweet way Varric had ignored her.

_You need me, Seeker._

"How _dare_ you keep this from me!"

"I told you then, and I'll tell you know, I've _got_ secrets, I'm never going to be able to tell you _everything--_ "

"This is not a secret, Varric. This is more than that, you knew what was at stake I told you--"

"You _interrogated_ me! Do you even know how it felt to have you, of all people--"

"I needed answers."

Varric scowled. "I _gave_ them to you."

"You were selective."

"Hawke is my _friend_ , he's practically my brother--"

Cassandra _screeched._ "I am your _wife!_ "

And every person in the hall went still.

 

 

 

_Spring, 9:38 Dragon, Kirkwall_

Varric had been back in Kirkwall for three days, and it was already starting to get to him. In the good ways, for the most part. His room at the Hanged Man needed a dusting, and he was still trying to clean up a few messes here and there, but all in all -- he couldn't complain. He took breakfast that fourth morning alone in his study, reading a few letters and watching out the window to the street below. The world moved at a different pace when you watched in silence, and Varric liked to, every so often. No writing, no words -- just eyes.

Below him, the tavern began buzzing with activity. The explosion may have hurt the city, may have taken lives and thrown their little world into a state of chaos and shock, but people still wanted beer, and the Hanged Man was always good for it. Varric spent most of his day writing letters, then walking them out to be delivered. He wandered around Lowtown for a good while before he meandered home. 

The tavern was sparse still before dinner, but a few new guests had trickled in. Varric recognized most as regular travelers, but there was a woman in the corner, nursing a glass of wine and a thick book. She wore simple riding clothes and had a traveling cloak tossed over the back of the chair next to her. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her, but he could make out the glint in her eyes as she read -- and he was immediately drawn. 

Varric went upstairs to bathe and change before heading back down to satisfy his curiosity. He chose a table some feet from her and set about ordering food and scratching out a recent request for funds from the Merchant's Guild. He didn't look at her for some time, but became aware that she was glancing at him every so often, until finally she got up, set her book down on the table in front of him, and said, "You are Varric Tethras, are you not?"

"I might be." He looked up at her, and she was as fascinating in full bloom as he had suspected. Humans tended to be all elbows and sloped shoulders to Varric -- this woman was all _legs_. Legs that went for miles, legs he could get lost in, legs that would look beautiful tucked right between -- 

"You traveled with the Champion," she said quietly, and sat down at his table. Her book was an old Antivan read, a romance if Varric saw it right. It was thick, with small print, most likely, and pages upon pages of courtly love and romance. Varric approved. "You were...close?"

"You could say that." Varric leaned forward. "Are you asking for someone, or do you just enjoy confirming your personal theories?" She frowned. "I don't mean that in a bad way, I just mean--" Varric chuckled and she sighed. 

" _Ugh._ You enjoy this, then?"

"A bit." He paused. "You've never been in here before."

"I have not. I have work with the Chantry. What's left of it anyway." She sighed. "I am...I work for Divine Justinia."

"Alright, what's your _name_ , is what I'm trying to get at here."

She looked around before leaning forward and, looking at the table top, said very quietly, "Cassandra Pentaghast."

Varric _choked._ "Andraste's tits, what the hell are you doing _here?_ "

"I told you. I have business with the Kirkwall Chantry. An investigation into the explosion must be done--"

"Oh."

She blinked, then seemed to realize. "I am not here to question _you_ ," she said, and Varric exhaled, relieved. "The investigation is purely superficial. I'm here to make sure the statements of the Chantry members present do not go lost. But," she said carefully, "should you like to tell me anything, I would be here to listen."

"Lucky for you I don't tell anyone anything ever."

"Yes," Cassandra said dryly. "I am sure."

 

 

 

_Present Day_

Varric splintered from the conversation, leaving Cassandra gasping, a hand curled over her stomach in defense, like he'd kicked her. The way things had gone, Evelyn figured it must have felt like he had. The people in the hall had returned to their conversations, though the talk had taken a significant turn. When Evelyn approached her, Cassandra flinched, turning on the spot and looking ill. "I--"

"Let's take a walk," Evelyn said quietly, and led the Seeker from the hall.

 

 

 

"Oh, it was a _foolish_ thing of me to do." Cassandra rubbed a palm roughly under her eyes as they lounged on the battlements. "I cornered him about it months ago. I wanted to know where Hawke had gone."

"You interrogated your own husband?"

"At the time it did not feel that way, but in retrospect, yes. I suppose I did." She sighed. "Maker, I cannot _believe_...and he _lied!_ He lied to me, he knew and he kept it from me."

"Did you tell him why?"

"What?" Cassandra looked at her. "What do you mean, _why?_ Is it not obvious?"

"To you, maybe."

"Did I tell Varric I feared the conflict between the Templars and the mages would erupt into something far worse than he had seen in Kirkwall," Cassandra deadpanned. She sighed. "No. I did not. I merely asked him to tell me the story he'd told me a dozen times, but in _detail._ I wanted to know everything, and I had always thought he was holding something back."

"It happened to him. Did you think--"

"You would take his side then?" Cassandra straightened. "He is a _liar._ "

"I won't deny that. But he's a liar you married, Cassandra. Don't get me wrong, I'm not okay with it. And if you want, I'll find him and shake him down and make sure he doesn't open his mouth like that again. But...you married him. You knew he had secrets. How did it even...happen?"

Cassandra sighed and leaned against the wall again. She gave a small laugh and shook her head. "Maker, I wish I could say we were _young_ and foolish. But it was only years ago. And I've run out of excuses."

 

 

 

_Spring, 9:38 Dragon, Kirkwall_

Cassandra spent her few three days in Kirkwall rushing back and forth between the Chantry and the Hanged Man. The clerics she worked with told her there were nicer places to stay, people in Hightown who would gladly house her. But Cassandra was unsettled by the garish homes she walked by each morning, and found herself comfortable on the hard, down-stuffed bed in its simple wooden frame. And besides, each night she was there, she ate dinner with Varric Tethras. It was more of a comfort than she'd have thought it could be.

"So, a Seeker walks into a bar--"

"This will not be funny," she said into her wine glass, but found herself snorting with laughter anyway.

"I knew I could do it."

"What, get me to spill on myself like a drunkard?" Cassandra wiped her mouth and took a spoonful of soup. "Very clever."

"How'd the day go?"

She sighed. "As well as can be expected. They are shaken up, distraught, many of them. The building was a beautiful one, the loss of it will be considerable for the Chantry."

"What do you make of the city?"

"It is...different than I imagined. I thought I would enjoy it less," she admitted. Varric smiled. "It is hardly your doing."

"This is my home, Seeker. Born and raised here. Pride comes with the territory." He lifted his cup. "Besides," he said. "You can't tell me I haven't brightened your day a _little._ " 

The question did not beg a response, and so Cassandra did not give him one. But she smiled without meaning to, and drained the rest of her wine before letting Varric order her more.

 

 

 

"This is a terrible idea," he murmured, but Cassandra could not find it in herself to disagree. She was determined, but to do what she couldn't be sure. His lips were soft with ale and his tongue tasted like the bread pudding he'd insisted they try. She thought their difference in height would make tackling him to his too-large, too-soft bed an awkward mess, but Varric seemed adept at accommodating her, and all Cassandra wanted to do was get her hands on every part of him. 

It had been too long. Almost twenty years since she'd met Galyan, and so many years had passed since she'd last seen him. Maker, she cared for him, _missed_ him -- but he was far from her, and Varric was here, under her hands, and he leaned close and said to her, "You're beautiful, Seeker," and she was lost.

"Please," she said, gasping when he drew his teeth over her now bare shoulder -- where had her blouse gone, where had his tunic disappeared to, why was it so satisfying to drag her fingers through the hair of his chest and arch her back as he kissed her neck. "Touch me, I cannot--" With a twist he rolled them over, laid her on her back, and made his way down her body. Her breeches slid off, exposing her to him. She wanted, she had been waiting for so long, she could _not_ \-- 

Cassandra lost track of the number of times she tumbled over that edge. It took ages before he thrust inside of her, and by then she was a mess under him, all quivering muscles and pent up need that spilled and spilled until there was nothing left. He seemed to last so long inside her, and when he came, he shouted, swore, moaned her name into the air and held himself for so long, until Cassandra couldn't bear it any longer, and they parted, different and renewed and something so strange she couldn't place it.

For a while, Cassandra listened to his breathing settle as he groaned, moving from his place in the bed and getting up to fetch some water. She admired his profile, and was not ashamed when he caught her looking. "I'm feeling objectified, Seeker."

"Bring me some of that."

"Yes, ma'am." Varric sat on the edge of the bed and watched her drink. "So. What now, Seeker?"

"I suppose if you're feeling up to it, we can do it again in a bit."

Varric choked on his laughter. "That's...not what I meant. But alright. I'm up for anything." He frowned, glancing between his legs. "Well, not _yet_ , but--" 

Cassandra threw a pillow at him, gracefully.

 

 

 

_Present Day_

Evelyn figured the version of how things started she got from Cassandra was pretty tame, considering she'd mostly waxed poetic about making love to him for the first time without realizing it, and then been humorously embarrassed. So she went in search of Varric, who could always be counted on for the rowdier bits, only to find him uncharacteristically morose, drinking wine below the keep, opening books on the shelf and tossing them over his shoulder.

"Shit. Shit. Complete shit. _Utter_ shit. Shit in a dead language. Shit about blood magic. More shit--"

"What are you _doing?_ "

"Pruning this library."

"It's not...nevermind." Evelyn looked at the bottle he was drinking from. "I know you're upset, but this is the stuff Grey Wardens drink to forget the horrors of the _Blight_ , Varric. You lied to your wife, it's not that bad."

"No. I lied to _Cassandra_ , who happens to _be_ my wife. It's...a very different situation _entirely._ " He sighed and flopped down in a chair. Dust mushroomed up and Evelyn hacked, but Varric didn't seem to notice. "I'm in deep shit here."

"You are. But if it makes you feel better, she's more sad than angry." Varric raised an eyebrow. "That's...not better, is it?"

"No."

"Why didn't you just tell her, Varric?"

"Why didn't I sell my friend to the Chantry? So they could _use_ him--"

Evelyn held up a hand. "No. Why didn't you tell her why you couldn't give up Hawke? If you can't tell the truth to the woman you marry, the what do you have?"

Varric sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Nothing, I guess. I finally have nothing."

 

 

 

_Summer, 9:38 Dragon, Kirkwall_

"I'm going to insist you keep your name."

Cassandra huffed. "I was not going to change it."

"No, I know. But when people ask, you can say your husband _insisted._ "

"You are not my husband yet."

"Few more hours to go." Varric glanced at the sun. They'd decided to have their shoddy, last minute, spur of the moment wedding at sundown, and Varric appreciated the sentiment. Cassandra liked romance, but she detested festivities. Varric disliked both, and having things this way was ideal. Besides, he was looking forward to what came after. The sex, sure, definitely, but they'd already had plenty of it -- and _how_ , she was incredible, she was magnificent, she was like no one he'd ever been with -- Varric needed time, though, to process a simple fact.

She'd said _yes._

He'd asked her on accident. He had no ring, no motive, no plan. Very unlike him, if one were to question his closest friends. It came out while they were reading in his bed. She'd been in the city for so long he felt like she'd been there forever. And the words, they came so _easy_ \-- 

"We should get married," he'd said.

She looked at him like he'd just read from the paper, and not asked the most insane question of his entire life. She looked at him and she said, "Yes, alright."

And that was that.

And now they were getting married

She wore no dress, and Varric had cleaned up as well as he could, considering the situation. He had a ring, finally, he had words to say. But he lost them -- the words, not the ring, Andraste's tits he couldn't lose the ring -- when he looked at her, the way she was illuminated by sunlight, the way she was perfect in the halo of dusk.

"Damn," he said quietly.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I just...I love you. And it's so strange."

She laughed. "It is a bit, isn't it?"

"A good strange."

"Yes," she said, rolling her eyes and pressing a kiss to his temple. "It is a good thing." 

 

 

 

_Present Day_

What Evelyn gathered after was this: they had married and been suddenly separated. Cassandra was called for months at a time to visit different Chantries in different cities, and Varric was desperately needed in Kirkwall. He funded building efforts, oversaw major reconstruction projects in Lowtown. They kept saying to each other, _After this is over, we'll travel. After this is over, we'll find somewhere to live. After this is over, we'll talk about the future._

And then the future came, and it wasn't the one they wanted. 

Evelyn felt her own heart breaking. It was painful. It was a love that had bled, and she felt ill with it. Even after it all, even after the separation and the pain -- they were still trying so hard.

"It's funny," Varric said. "It doesn't even feel like the worst thing." He took a long drink from the bottle and, finishing it, tossed it into the corner. It bounced unpleasantly, as if refusing to shatter. "But I guess maybe it is."

"Worse things have happened, you mean?"

"Maybe. There was an episode with Bianca. I sort of wrote her a letter saying I got married and she didn't take kindly to the written word. Got a little upset. Then I got into a fist fight with that mage. The one that died at the conclave. We ended up being friends, in the end, but we were both drunk and the Seeker is a damn beautiful woman. Bianca won't speak to her, but only because she doesn't want to get _both_ of us killed." He laughed, but it was mirthless. "None of that really drove us apart, though." He grew very quiet, lost in a memory, sunk deep below in a thought.

Evelyn bit her lip and finally asked, "What did?"

"Hmm? Oh. It, uh. It was the baby. Before this happened, it was the baby."

"You..."

"Not on purpose. Honestly, I didn't think it was possible. But it happened, you know? And we thought, okay, maybe this is a sign. It means this is really supposed to be what we do. And then we lost the baby. Nothing crazy happened, it just...was gone. We lost it. After that it felt forced. And then she wanted to know about Hawke and I thought, does it even matter? Aren't we just going through the motions, now? It's been two years of us fighting reality, trying to make play at this husband and wife thing. We can't even be _parents_ the right way. So yeah. I lied. Because I figured what's one more wedge between us?"

"Varric. _Varric_ , that's horrible."

"You don't know what it felt like. When we _lost_ that kid." 

"I can imagine."

He laughed again. "I think you're very clever, and too wise for your own damn good," he said. "But I don't think you can."

* * *

For a week, Cassandra couldn't speak to him, and Varric didn't blame her. He'd lied because he felt like they were out of options. He'd lied because he _needed_ to protect his friend, even from his wife. He'd lied because she had questioned him like anyone else, and he was hurt and angry and lonelier than he'd ever been, even though she was standing right there.

It didn't make him a better person, being able to justify it. And it didn't make it okay.

That was pretty much that. Varric didn't have anything beyond the sentiment of that moment, when he'd figured it didn't matter.

He hadn't thought they'd make it here.

She was stubborn, and it was a reason to love her, so he let her have that space, let her have that distance -- and eventually, she found her way back to him. Somehow she alway did.

Varric opened the door and she was standing there, as imposing as the day he'd met her. She stood in the doorway for a long time. They'd never discussed living together at Skyhold. She'd separated from him almost instantly, and that was as good a reason as any to assume things were over in his book. But Maker, if he didn't _miss_ her. He shut the door behind her and leaned against it, staring at the floor, not sure of what to say.

"Have I rendered you speechless again?" she asked quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed. Her words were soft, none of the harshness he expected from her at this point. He smiled, and she smiled back. 

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "It's not enough. It'll never _be_ enough--"

"Please." Cassandra's voice was small, _wrecked_. She'd been crying, he realized, and that was always the last thing he wanted to make her do. "I cannot let you take all of the blame. I won't."

"You can."

She held up a hand. "I would prefer not to. Maker, this has been...something else. Varric, I..." Cassandra looked at him. "This is something I cannot do."

He felt his breath hitch in his throat. "Right. Of course. I guess when this is over--"

"We will have a great deal of thinking to do, yes, but for now--"

"I don't think we can pretend it hasn't happened--"

"We should try to make something of it," she said quickly, and loudly, because he was staring to talk over. "For a moment, Varric, could you please _shut up?_ " He closed his mouth. "I love you, you fool of a dwarf. I married you and I intend to remain married to you, in spite of your flaws, in spite of you being loyal _to a fault._ I will stay your wife for as long as the Maker lets me. And perhaps even after."

Varric moved closer to her. "Can a dwarf make it to the Maker's side?" he asked.

"I am _royalty_ , remember?" Cassandra pulled him in, burying her face in his tunic. Varric clung to her, feeling truly together for the first time in months. "I will vouch for you. Always."

"And if I can't get there?"

"Then we will just have to remain here. Forever."

"Could we manage that?"

She smiled, and in it there were a thousand promises, a thousand questions. Varric wanted to answer each and every one, but for now, all he could do was kiss her. And she seemed satisfied enough. "I think," she said quietly, "that we know a thing or two about overcoming impossibilities, my love. Don't you?"


End file.
